


Homecoming

by ItsALilah



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: A love letter to Northern California, Background GingerRose, Everyone's in plaid, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Han and Leia, Happily Ever After, It's a Christmas fic, Leia Organa Solo buys mistletoe in bulk, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Returning Home, Soft boi Ben Solo, Solo Family Reunion, This fic brought to you by Independent Craft Brewers, Very Consensual Sex, background stormpilot, holiday parties, only a little angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 11:57:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17022180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsALilah/pseuds/ItsALilah
Summary: After disaster rips through his hometown, Ben Solo finally comes home to surprise his parents at their annual Christmas Eve party.And if he's hoping to run into Rey, the girl he's secretly been pining for since high school, that would be... cool. Although he'll never make a move, not while her over-protective older brother - and Ben's best friend - is around.But when Ben makes it home, not only does he find himself reconnecting with his friends and family, but fate itself seems to be pushing him and Rey together (thanks to a ridiculous amount of mistletoe).A holiday tale about love, fresh starts and coming home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [erney007](https://archiveofourown.org/users/erney007/gifts).



> For the wonderful [Erney007](https://archiveofourown.org/users/erney007) \- Happy Holidays and I hope you enjoy! :)
> 
> The prompts:  
> 1\. Reunited under the mistletoe  
> 2\. Baby it's cold outside  
> Plus fluff and smut.

“Fuck.”

The swear’s uttered by the dark haired man driving a too-pristine Jeep Grand Cherokee, although no one’s in the SUV with him to hear it. He runs his hand through his chin-length curls, pushing it away of his eyes as he keeps his other hand loosely wrapped around the leather-bound steering wheel. 

Not like he needs to steer at all. 

He’s three hours in on his drive through every cow field in Northern California, and all he sees ahead of him is miles of lit-up brake lights. A bad sign for anyone stuck on I-5 between Chico and Anderson, but especially disastrous for those on a tight schedule. 

Like Kylo Ren. Ben Solo. _Whatever._

His name’s not the only thing making his stomach churn and his head feel mixed up. He’d vowed twelve years ago to never go back to his strung-out hometown, a pact made with his best friend as they both strolled across the stage, clutching their Stanford diplomas. Back then, when the future seemed so bright, so clear, and Ben was eager to shed his past for the promise of success in New York City. 

Now he’s thirty-four and rebuilding his life, driving a rented SUV from San Francisco International Airport (because the Red Lake airport’s rental car selection is non-existent). He’s trying to calm his ragged nerves, making the trip he swore he’d never make for a return so awkward, his ears already burning as he breathes out through his nose like he’s learned. He sips his long cold Starbucks latte, the only thing staving off his hunger as he wills the cars in front of him to just freaking _move_ already. 

“We’ve got a jack-knifed tractor trailer blocking all northbound lanes of I-5 until the Anderson Valley exit-“ Kylo groans as the radio announcer calmly explains how screwed he is, all because of nostalgia and his conscience’s need for contrition. 

‘Well, that and long, tanned legs that go on for miles,’ his brain snickers, and Kylo flicks the thought right back out of his head, because he already has to pee and popping a boner in traffic will not help in any way, shape or form. 

Instead, he picks up his phone and presses a recently dialed number, probably his top dialed one at this point. Kylo smartly paired it with the car’s built-in Bluetooth system before embarking on his journey, so it rings a couple times over the speakers, giving him hope that maybe, maybe the flight was delayed and he won’t have to deal with -

“Impeccable timing, mate, we just landed.” The somehow still crisp British accent of Armitage Hux booms around Kylo. He quickly turns down the volume, maxed out by the last renter of the car. 

“Well, I hate to break it to you, but my timing still sucks.”

Hux groans. “What? Don’t tell me you got cold feet and are driving to Monterrey right now.”

“I wish,” Kylo sighs. “Tractor-trailer crash on the 5. I’ve been sitting here for at least fifteen minutes.” 

“Lovely. I don’t suppose the Red Lake airport’s opened a Starbucks since I came here last.”

“You’d know better than I do.” Hux had already come back once this year to help pick through the ashes of his family home, after the fires ripped through the landscape of their childhood. He’d been the one planting the idea of returning for Christmas in Kylo’s head, a grand gesture to help firm up the shaky foundations of his re-established relationship with Han and Leia. 

Mom and Dad.

 _Whatever._

Briefly, Kylo ponders whether the traffic jam’s a sign, a message from above urging him not to return home, to turn back and find a warmer, sunnier place to spend Christmas - 

And then, like a damn miracle, traffic ahead starts to move, the sounds of engines restarting audible inside the Jeep. 

“Jesus,” Kylo mutters. “You won’t believe it, but we’re moving. CHiP’s gotten better at this shit since we left.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Hux laughs. “I’m going to go hit the vending machine, we’ll see you when you get here.”

“Good luck, I bet everything in its stale,” Kylo smirks, pressing his foot on the gas pedal and breathing a sigh of relief as the car accelerates north.

———————————————-

Kylo’s able to make it to the small, single-terminal airport in a mere twenty minutes, a possible record thanks to his lead foot. By the time he pulls up in front of the arrivals pickup area (the same location as the departures drop-off), he’s greeted by the ecstatic waves of two hungry travelers, one tall and also bedecked in flannel, with a scruffy red beard.

“You were right, mate, everything in that vending machine was long gone,” Hux grumbles as he loaded the suitcases into the Jeep’s ample trunk. 

“Well, now you guys have to take me to In-N-Out,” a female voice chirps, before strong little arms laced around Kylo’s chest from behind, ensnaring him in one of Rose Tico’s infamous hugs. “Kylo!” Rose squeals, almost deafening him. 

While the Kylo of one year ago would’ve grunted something rude and shaken her off, this new Ben-Kylo hybrid’s no longer afraid of human touch, and has already resigned himself to his fate of early hearing loss. 

“Hey, Ro,” he lifts a hand to squeeze her forearm back, and earning his release from her affectionate chokehold. Ever since Hux and Kylo turned State’s witnesses against Snoke and started mending their broken friendship, Rose Tico’s been the force pushing them forward. If anyone were to ask Kylo what convinced him to make this trip home, he’d claim it was Rose. While she’s got a warm heart and infectious cheer, Kylo knows how nervous the petite black-haired woman is about meeting her fiancé’s family for the first time. She’d come to Kylo and begged him to come home for Christmas, telling him she wanted a friendly face and ally there, someone she knew. 

[In reality, Kylo’s mind was made up once Hux mentioned that his little sister would also be at the party. “You know, Rey would also be delighted to see you. She always asks about you.” It was a strange comment to drop, one that almost made Kylo feel _hopeful_ about things. He started looking up tickets home ten minutes later.]

“Yeah, I’m starving. Besides, we can’t turn up now, the whole point is to get there once everyone’s made it.” Hux says as he clambers into the front seat, buckling himself in. “Christ, Ren, we’re going to Red Lake, not Yosemite.”

“Mom said snow might be in the forecast. And she said some of the roads were still shit from the fires, so I figured four-wheel drive might be handy,” Kylo shrugs. 

“Mom, eh? That’s good progress,” Hux grins like a Cheshire cat at his friend, and then, thanks to their journey through Hell and back together, smoothly returns to their original subject. “In-N-Out, ho!” he charges, and Kylo shakes his head while stepping on the gas.

———————————————-

It feels like fate when they spy the brewery nestled in the shopping center adjacent to the bustling In-N-Out, its neon sign advertising “craft beer” and beckoning them like moths to a light. Kylo noticed it first, thanks to the heated conversation currently taking place between Rose and Hux. The three travelers’ bellies full of Animal sauce and beef patties, they wander back towards the rental car before Kylo pauses, glancing over his shoulder at the couple behind him.

“I’m just saying, Five Guys is more bang for your buck and the fries are far superior,” Rose argues while her betrothed shakes his head. 

“Five Guys relies on grease for its flavor, while In-N-Out you can eat without feeling like you’ve taken years off your life!” Hux counters with a ferocity that would intimidate anyone other than Rose Tico. 

If Kylo didn’t know any better, he’d think this shit was foreplay for them. 

“Uh, guys?” Kylo’s interruption causes both their heads to swivel away from each other. He hitches his thumb up to point towards the brewery. “Why don’t we pick up a growler or something for tonight? You know, when we inevitably sneak away to the cabana to get away from everyone?”

For a moment, there’s silence, and Kylo inwardly prepares for an argument, or some sort of snide comment about how they’re not “pretentious asshole college kids anymore.”

“It is only appropriate for us to support other independent brewers,” Hux says slowly, wheels turning in that wily mind of his. “And I’ve heard good buzz about Stormpilot.”

“Pffft, you both just want to delay the inevitable,” Rose grumbles.

“Nah, this is networking,” Kylo teases, conjuring up his and Hux’s favorite excuses for visiting breweries. After leaving Snoke to rot in Hell, they’d pooled their funds with their former colleague and fellow turncoat, Gwen Phasma, to open First Order Brewing Company in New York City. Both Kylo and Hux had been homebrewing for years, unbeknownst to each other. When Rose committed herself to helping to repair their friendship, she’d used beer and their aspirations to open a brewery as common ground. 

A tactic she probably regrets right now. 

Rose rolls her eyes dramatically, but the soft grin playing at the corners of her lips tells Kylo she’s playing it up. She’s further bribed with a piggyback ride from Hux across the parking lot, another sign of her fun-loving spirit rubbing off on the man once nicknamed “The General” for his rigid personality. 

They walk in and its clear they hit Stormpilot at closing time. The place is near empty except for some last minute growler fills and lolligaggers gathered around the sleek black and orange bar. A young, flannel clad and appropriately tattooed woman’s working the taps, and she happily gives them a few tasters of her favorites to help them make a decision. 

Good service, knowledgable pourers, it’s no wonder they’re on NorCal’s substantial list of up-and-coming breweries, Kylo mentally notes. Or perhaps she recognized them as fellow brewers thanks to their buffalo-check flannel shirts and Carhartt hats (naturally embroidered with First Order’s logo).

Then the proverbial record scratches as a head pops out from a large stainless steel fermenter, espresso brown eyes locking in on the trio from where the man’s bent over the open hatch. 

“Holy fuck! Do my eyes deceive me or is that Ben fuckin’ Solo and Armitage fuckin’ Hux?!?” Black curls bounce as the olive-skinned man sprints over to them, squinting to get a better luck. He almost cartoonishly skids to a stop behind his bartender, eyes wide with shock as he gapes at the men before him. 

Just their luck that the best brewery in Red Lake is owned by Poe Dameron, of all people. 

“Well, well, well, the prodigal sons hath returned!”

“Hello to you too, Poe,” Armitage laces his arm around Rose’s shoulders, likely remembering their high school friend’s reputation as a manwhore. 

The action doesn’t go unnoticed. “And who might you be?” Poe practically purrs.

“I’m Rose fuckin’ Tico, and you are?” At this, Ben Solo dissolves into laughter, unable to keep it together at Rose’s fiery parroting of Poe’s earlier wording. Leave it to Rose Tico to be the one woman in the world immune to Poe Dameron’s charms. 

Ben wipes tears from his eyes as his laughter subsides, allowing him to finally see the shocked and borderline aghast stares of his friends. 

“What?”

“Dude, did you smoke up or something?” Hux asks. “I mean, I know it’s legal here, but you are driving us.”

“No, no, I just… I thought it was funny,” Ben insists, getting him another weird look from his friend. Luckily, Hux backs off, understanding the effect of sleep deprivation and nerves on one’s mental state. 

“What, is Ben Solo laughing some sort of rare event? Man, the East Coast really is uptight.” Poe comments, and Rose snorts. 

“You have no idea.”

“Well then, you’ve come to the right place. Let me guess, you’re heading to the Annual Solo Holiday Party?”

“I’m surprised you’re not there, Dameron.” Ben asks, then second guesses his word choices. He knows his mother’s close to Poe, but perhaps there’s a reason he’s not attending. He’s heard that some people are bitter towards those with homes that survived the fire, and Leia- _Mom_ \- told him Poe Dameron’s had not. 

“I was just finishing up tonight’s gravity readings before my husband picks me up, actually.”

“Ah,” both Hux and Ben say, and after a pause:

“Wait, husband?”

“Did I miss something?”

They both talk over each other, and Poe can’t help but grin smugly at the two. 

“Yeah, while you all were galavanting around Stanford, I finally admitted I was gay and came out.” Poe hadn’t gone to college with Hux and Ben, instead going to UC Davis and studying winemaking before a brief career in Napa. At least, that was the last Ben Solo heard of him through social media, but he clearly missed some other developments. 

“Well, congrats, man!” Ben grins, an honest grin, as Hux sticks his hand out to shake Poe’s in celebration. 

“That’s great news. Look at us, becoming honest men.” Hux exhales with a little huff, tucking Rose closer to his side. “Rose is here to meet the family, now that I’ve locked her in myself.”

“We’re not married yet, Armi,” Rose laughs. 

“Aw, congrats to you, man! What a stunner, too,” Poe winks at Rose, and she giggles softly while squeezing Hux’s hand, keeping his somewhat incendiary temper at bay. 

“Trust me, you’ll love the Huxes, Rose. Especially Rey, she’s an absolute angel. We’re lucky she came home to help with rebuilding. Some people are giving her shit, y’know,” Poe’s eyes shift back to Hux.

“Because of the new building restrictions?” 

“Mm-hmm. But it makes sense. We don’t want to ever go through this again, and we live in California, so if you’re gonna build, you gotta build smart.” Poe shrugs, and Ben’s blood boils at the thought of anyone giving sweet Rechael Hux shit for any reason at all. Especially when she’d taken leave from her high-level job at FEMA to come home and help her adopted hometown rebuild. 

“But, that’s talk for later. Now, boys, I understand I’m talking to two fellow brewers, so - whaddya think of my New England IPA?” Poe claps them both on the back, turning the talk to brewing, but for once, Ben Solo doesn’t want to talk beer. 

His stomach’s filling with butterflies as he thinks of soft hazel eyes and long, tanned legs, ones that have haunted him since he last saw Rey Hux at her brother’s college graduation. By that point, both Hux and Ben were under Snoke’s control, with the animosity between them increasing by the day. Everything was a competition between the two, especially when it came to their loyalty to the twisted old man they called their mentor. Both were keen to escape California and the families they’d come to believe as toxic at this point, their graduation being a final obstacle before they could break those ties. 

It was especially difficult to ignore Rey, to pretend he didn’t see how those beautiful eyes of hers grew glassy from tears as he brushed her off. It was necessary, of course, not only for his survival, but hers. Snoke had long ago taken an interest in Hux’s intelligent younger sister, and both of the men made an unspoken commitment to protect Rey from him. They lied to themselves as to why, telling each other that he was too brutal, too rough, for someone as sweet as Rey (as if she hadn’t shown her mettle in her previous foster homes), or this was to avoid adding another layer of competition. As a result, Ben Solo gave Rey only the slightest nod when he saw her at graduation, keeping his eyes shielded behind polarized aviators so he could drink in the curves of her body one last time. 

‘She’s Hux’s little sister, you creep!’ His conscience reminds him, pushing his mind back towards the conversation and away from any untoward thoughts towards the ultimate forbidden fruit. 

Stupid conscious. Stupid moral compass.

“Anyways, it’s nice to talk to fellow brewers and old friends. I’ve heard tons of great stuff about First Order. You guys are in Queens, right?”

“Yup,” Ben tunes back in just in time to answer Poe’s question, as if he’d been listening the whole time. 

“Damn, I can’t wait to talk to you about that market. Anyways, Finn’ll probably be here soon to pick me up, so lemme fill ya some growlers. On me, of course.

“Finn?” Ben asks casually, although he remembers Finn Storm all too well. Finn was Rey’s year and best friend, and Ben swore Finn was secretly in love with Rey until their sophomore year, when Finn Storm came out of the closet and put all of Ben’s unspoken fears to rest. 

“Who do you think puts the ‘Storm’ in ‘Stormpilot’?” Poe’s grinning toothily again. “I was lucky enough to find a man who loves brewing as much as I do. Are you also in the biz?” He asks Rose, who tilts her head back and laughs in response. 

“Oh, no, I’m a huge beer aficionado and I homebrew with Hux, but I’m a housing lawyer.”

“She helps the little guy and makes sure our household’s profitable,” Hux says proudly, earning him a warm smile from his fiancee. Then the redhead pauses, pondering. “Poe. Is Finn coming to get you alone?”

“No, actually, he’s driving Rey too so you’ll get an early reunion with your sister,” Poe trails off as Ben and Hux’s faces pale considerably at the news. 

“Fuck!”

“Shit!”

“Um, did I miss something? I thought you guys were good again?” It’s the first public acknowledgement of the rift between the men and their families, and to his credit, Hux is able to keep his glare set at “withering” and not “murderous”.

“It’s a surprise. Neither the Solos or the Huxes know any of us are coming.” Rose explains calmly, the only one capable of using their words in any sentient manner. 

“Oh, huh, that’s a problem.”

“No shit, Sherlock!” Hux hisses, and Rose glares up at him. She might be five-three, but every inch of her is fearsome. 

“Be nice, Armitage!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Hux grumbles. 

“Ah, no worries, Rose, we’re all used to the infamous Hux temper. Almost as bad as that one’s.” Poe stabs his finger towards Ben, and Ben wisely bites a caustic remark back.

“How long do we have till they get here?” Ben asks instead, working his jaw over itself in thought. 

“Five minutes-“ Hux interrupts with a yelped parroting of Poe’s words “but, I have an idea.”

———————————————-

Fifteen minutes later, Poe’s strapped into the front seat of the Jeep and navigating Ben along the winding back roads leading to the Solo family estate. Hux and Rose are snuggled together in the back, and Ben sees Rose stroking his arm reassuringly when he glances back in the rear-view mirror.

His anxiety increases with every mile driven towards his parents’, the pounding of his heart almost drowning out Poe’s constant chatter as they drive. He’d called Finn and convinced him to drive to the party himself, making an excuse about his bartender, Amanda, needing a ride home, in exchange for a ride to the party. 

Ben’s glad to have Poe with them, not just as a distraction from his nervousness, but as a navigator on the pitch-black roads. The blackened skeletons of burned-out trees twist around them, stark and haunting in the moonlight. Some of the roadsigns are still missing, meant to deter looters and looky-loos from the burn areas. The fire erased all of the familiar landmarks, so Poe’s directions help keep Ben from getting lost. 

Not that that doesn’t sound slightly appealing at the moment. 

Finally, they turn onto the winding driveway up the ridgeline to the Solo house. Ben knew from his parents that the fire got close, burning up to where Han kept defensible space cleared around the property. His father’s foresight saved their house, although the garage and Han’s workshop both burnt that night. 

Along with the Huxes, Poe and Finn Dameron’s, and countless other homes. 

Through the trees, twinkling white lights appear, first as distant orbs beckoning them through the burn area, then brighter and larger as they near. Leia Organa Solo goes all out for Christmas every year, and this year, she’s truly outdone herself. Strings of lights are wrapped around the surviving trees, as well as the flagpole out front. There’s light-up wicker deer in the front, and #ShastaStrong is scrawled out in lights and propped up as a greeting. Delicate paper lanterns with faux candles hang from the surviving trees at the top of the drive, where a line of cars are already parked. 

“CAUTION: PLEASE DO NOT PARK IN BURN AREA. FALLING BRANCHES.” a sign reads, and Kylo darkly muses that if things go poorly, he can at least go for a walk and hope for a quick end. 

“Seeing it in person’s different, isn’t it?” Poe asks, taking his hesitation as shock at the damage. Kylo nods in response, keeping his mouth clenched shut. 

“Well, looks like it’s time for our grand entrance, boys,” Rose says with a purposeful lightness. Kylo hears the back doors open and the light springs on, illuminating him in the front seat. 

“Hey,” Poe clasps a warm hand over his shoulder, his dark eyes boring into Kylo’s. Kylo’s surprised to find them warm, non-judgmental, as his old friend smiles at him. “It’s gonna be all right. I talk to your parents a lot, and you’re giving them the best gift they could ever ask for.”

With a gulp, Kylo manages a small smile and a nod of gratitude. He takes a deep, cleansing breath, just like that fancy therapist taught him, and opens his car door. 

‘God, I hope Poe Dameron is right,’ he prays as he joins his friends and walks towards his parents’ front door. 

He’s feeling almost confident as he reaches for the doorknob, and then freezes, uncertainty seizing his muscles. Should he knock? he asks himself, but reminds him of how silly that is, to knock on his own parents’ door, and at a party, no less. Knocking would likely go unheard over the din coming from inside, but ringing the bell would just attract everyone’s attention, which is basically his worst nightmare, and- 

“Ben,” Rose says softly, using his given name to break him out of his runaway thoughts. It’s all she needs to say, to remind him of why he came here, why he flew five hours and 1300 miles and drove another four.

Then he hears it. That laugh, floating out of one of the large pane windows ensconcing the living area. It’s airy, light, and joyous, almost musical, and his heart flutters. 

_Rey._

His fingers grasp the knob, and with a flick of his wrist, Ben Solo twists the door open and comes home. 

He’s made it halfway into the foyer and puts the growler down on an accent table made of melted aluminum and glass before he’s spotted; an old, grizzled voice snapping him to attention. 

“Ben?!?” 

Ben Solo turns around slowly to face his father. He’s seen his face over FaceTime, but it still breaks him a bit every time he sees how _old_ Han Solo’s become. Leia’s convinced him to shave, leaving the deep creases in his cheeks fully visible, and his silver hair catches in the light. 

“Hey, Dad.”

“Ben!” He’s pulled into a hug, his father clutching him close as he holds him, before suddenly remembering the audience they have and pulling back. He’s got that lopsided grin that Kylo hated so much, the one he catches himself smiling back with. 

“Merry Christmas?” he shrugs sheepishly, unsure of how to handle his father’s brief moment of affection. 

“Merry Christmas, indeed. I see you’ve brought your partner in crime with you. Armitage, good to see you, kid.” Han reaches out to shake Hux’s hand, an acknowledgement that his son’s boyhood friend’s a man now. 

“And you must be Rose. I’ve heard so much about you - what are you doing with these two idiots?” Han moves to shake Rose’s hand with a wink, and Ben can’t help but groan (swallowing down his defensiveness like therapy’s taught him to).

“For once I’m not an idiot!” Poe crows from behind them.

“Ah, I didn’t see you there, Dameron; but don’t worry, you still are.” Poe pouts in response to Han’s correction, wind deftly removed from his sails. 

“Does your mother know about this?” Han turns back to Ben, confusion still evident in his eyes as to how his formerly estranged son made it back home. 

“No. Hux, Rose and I decided to surprise everyone.”

“And Dameron came along for the ride? Good to know some things never change.” Han shakes his head. “Well, your mother is going to be absolute-“

At that moment, Leia Organa Solo flits into the entryway, undoubtedly looking for her husband and to welcome her newest arrivals. Ben watches her freeze in shock as she takes in the sight of her son back in her house, Han’s hands still grasping his shoulders. 

“Ben!” she cries out, and for once in her life, former Senator Organa Solo throws decorum to the wayside so she can bolt to her son and wrap her arms around him in a tight embrace. It’s almost ridiculous, her being so short that the top of her head barely comes up to his shoulders, and yet, he can still smell her lavender shampoo as he hugs her back. 

“Hey, Mom. I’m home.”

It's the first time Ben Solo sees his mother shed a tear of joy, a moment he’ll never forget. He’s so wrapped up in the rightness of being home, of his mother and her forgiveness washing over him, that he doesn’t hear the excited cheers of Brendol and Anna Hux joining in as they found their son and his fiancée. 

“Rey! Rey, come here,” Brendol shouts, his former roar softened by glee, and it's her name that makes Ben’s head jerk up. 

She appears from the right, draped in forest green sequins hugging her curves in a tight dress. She’s got her hair pulled back, chestnut locks wrapped into a bun, and its more than evident that the pretty co-ed’s grown into a stunning woman. Kylo can’t help but take in her emerald eyes, enhanced by a smoky shadow, ruby lips curling into a gleeful smile. She’s still lithe, built with a runner’s body but oh, that ass of hers has is the kind people dream of, swollen and pert while deliciously full. 

Her eyes fall on him and he jerks his eyes up to hers, cheeks flaming as he knows he’s been caught. Something smolders in her eyes, or maybe that’s just the light, like she enjoyed catching him.

 _Down, boy. Down. Do not pop a boner while hugging your mother,_ he reminds himself. 

But Leia Organa Solo’s looking at him with a raised eyebrow and an amused stare, one that vanishes just after he glances back down at her. She’s back to the picture of poise, although her eyes still glitter and the crows’ feet around them crinkle as she smiles. 

“Welcome home, baby,” Leia croons, before going in for another hug.

———————————————-

It takes Ben at least thirty minutes to extricate him from his mother’s tight grip, where she proudly introduces him and re-introduces him to every guest at the party. “This is my son, Ben, home from New York City.” “This is my Ben, home for Christmas.” “Look at this present I got- you remember our Ben, right?” It makes Ben feel warm inside, his mother’s unabashed delight and the way she introduces him. But she never makes it to Rey, and when Ben goes to seek her out, he’s pulled into his father’s office by his old man, where he’d already cornered Rose, Armitage and Poe for a round of his best Scotch. Brendol Hux is there too, but drinking sparkling cider, having just celebrated his twentieth year of sobriety (and marriage to his second wife).

Finally, Ben’s able to sneak away with his re-filled tumbler, clutching it in his hands as Rose re-tells the story of Hux’s proposal for the umpteenth time. He slips into the hallway, padding towards the kitchen when the bathroom door opens and Rey steps out, directly into his path. 

She turns towards him and for a second, they’re both frozen, taking each other in again. 

“Hey,” he says after a beat, hoping his voice sounds smooth and not at all like a borderline obsessed creepy old man. 

“Hey,” she responds, her English accent still present but faded over time, nowhere near as pronounced as Hux’s. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” he thinks he sounds appropriately casual until she snorts, almost sarcastically.

“Funny, I think I should be the one saying fancy seeing you here.” There’s a drop of hurt behind those words, the abandoned girl still alive and strong in this goddess of a woman, and Ben Solo curses Snoke for the millionth time. 

“Yeah, you probably should,” funny how she takes the fight right out of him. In a peace offering, he steps forward, extending the amber filled tumbler towards her. 

“Han’s good scotch?” She asks with a raised eyebrow. 

“For once, it was offered and not stolen.”

“Well, it's a celebratory occasion, you two coming home.” There’s no bite to her words this time, a wary sincerity flickering in her eyes. She steps towards him, her fingertips grazing his as she takes the tumbler from them. 

He can practically feel the sparks as her skin brushes his.

Then Rey’s looking up and he follows her eyes to see the bundle of greenery hanging above, red berries shining in the dim light. There’s a golden bow adorning the top of it, and Ben Solo wonders if he’s finally being rewarded for all those good deeds. 

Rey’s eyes fall back down to his, and Ben’s heart leaps into his throat as he swears she looks almost hungrily at his lips. He loops an arm around her waist, pulling her closer and delighting in the way her breath hitches, how she tilts her head up expectantly, almost like she wants this as much as he does, and he begins to lean in, searching her eyes for any sign of discomfort, of lack of consent-

The study door swings open, and they both jerk away from each other as if burnt. 

“Aw, look, they found the mistletoe,” Poe half-slurs and Kylo can feel Armitage Hux’s blue eyes boring two holes in his back. 

_Don’t fuck up your only friendship again, Solo. Think with your brain, not with your dick._

Ben Solo really hates his subconscious, but he bends to it, brushing his lips across Rey’s cheek in a quick, chaste kiss before stepping away and turning around with his hands up. 

“Hmm,” Hux scowls, giving his little sister a protective once over. He must decide to ignore her flushed cheeks and heaving breasts ( _chest, dammit, chest!_ ), because Kylo’s loyalty is rewarded with a curt nod. 

“Pool, Solo?” he asks, and despite what his heart screams, Ben Solo accepts, leaving Rey standing in the hallway, staring after them.

———————————————-

Karma is out for Ben Solo’s blood, he thinks as he finds himself caught under the third mistletoe ball with Rey Hux. Once again, Armitage’s eyes are razor sharp as he watches them, just like the last two times. After the incident in the hallway, Ben and Rey were again ensnared by the mistletoe in the kitchen, and now, hanging from the overhanging eaves of the roof as they stepped out onto the cement deck to join their friends outside.

This time, Rey’s standing on her tippy toes to meet him, and when Ben goes to lay a soft peck on her cheek, she turns her head just enough so he catches the corner of her mouth, tasting her red lips for the first time. 

Her breath is sweet as spiced wine, and Ben’s addicted. 

But she’s pulling back with a coy smile through hooded lashes, playfully scowling at her brother behind them. 

“Oh, come off it, Tage, Ben’s been a perfect gentleman. Besides, I’m twenty-seven, I think I can decide who gets to kiss me now.”

“Not for as long as I’m living,” Hux mutters darkly, and Rose smacks his arm. 

“Be a little less patriarchal, please?” 

“Tage,” Rey half-slurs, half-smiles, Leia’s gluhwein clearly going to her head. “I like Rose. You did a good job.” 

Rose laughs, and slides her arms around her sister-to-be in one of her patented bear hugs. “I like you too, Rey. I’m excited to be your sister.”

“Oh, gag me,” Hux struggles to keep his cool exterior, clearly pleased by his sister’s acceptance of his fiancée. 

More people join them out on the deck, a small high school reunion taking place as the younger crowd warms themselves by the gas firepit and takes in the starry sky above. They’re far enough north from the light pollution of the Bay Area and Sacramento to see almost every star in the velvet black sky, the darkness enhanced by the barren landscape around them. It’s cold enough to keep them huddled together, alcohol warms their veins as they fill each other in on their adult lives. Poe and Finn are there, of course, holding hands at talking about their plans for a Shasta County Brew Fair next summer. So is Jessika Pava, another of Rey’s classmates, and she and Rey chat as Ben tries very hard not to stare at Rey out of the corner of his eye. Kaydel Connix and her husband, Taylor something, also meander towards them. Kylo already caught up with his senior year girlfriend, whom he’d broken up with when he left for college (her being a year younger). Kaydel returned to Red Lake after getting her veterinary doctorate, bringing her husband, a Washington native with caramel skin and a shock of black hair, with her to open up a vet clinic that performed miracles during the fire. Taylor and Kaydel spoke passionately about the animals they’d treated, and Kaydel seems intent on convincing Ben to adopt one of the unclaimed survivors. 

As the night winds down, the small group on the deck started to disperse. First to leave was Snap Wexley and his heavily pregnant wife, Lindsey, who looked ready to fall over from exhaustion. Next were the Damerons, Finn dragging his drunken husband away to let their corgi, BB-8 out. Kaydel and Taylor left with them, explaining that they needed to assemble their two-year old daughter’s playhouse before morning. Jessika was the last to leave, with a round of hugs and a promise to come to First Order next time she took the train from Boston to New York. 

The party inside’s died down also, with many of the older folks wrapping themselves in their coats and braving the walks to their cars. Brendol and Anna Hux come out to bid goodnight to their children and soon to be daughter in law with grateful hugs and big smiles. They’re staying in one of the few hotel rooms available for the weekend, although they’re re-joining the Solos tomorrow for Christmas itself. Hux told Ben that his parents still hadn’t started re-building their home that once sat across the narrow ravine from the Solos, their houses close enough that as kids, Hux and Ben could signal each other in morse code using flashlights at night. Instead, the elder Huxes fled to their rental home in Tahoe, staying there except for holidays like this one, their property still in limbo. 

Brendol even gives Ben a firm handshake good night, Anna smothering him in a warm hug as she pulls her mink stole around her shoulders, whispering a “thank you for coming home, too” in his ear. 

Then it’s just the four of them, drinking Poe’s beer by the fire and telling stories about their adult lives. Hux and Rose are staying in one of the Solo’s many guest rooms, unable to find a hotel room of their own, and they drink more than half of the growler themselves. Rey was already living in the Solo’s pool cabana, renting it for mere pennies thanks to a post-fire housing crunch (and likely at Leia’s insistence). She talked about her struggle with wanting to help get people home as fast as she could, but also wanting to prevent another disaster like this one by encouraging fire-wise building practices and enforcing defensible space laws. How some of the tin-foil hat wearing members of the community claimed she was part of a government conspiracy, or others voiced fears that they wouldn’t be insurable if they admitted they lived in a wildfire-prone area. 

It was well after midnight by the time Rose tugged Armitage up, her plump lips slightly blue from the cold as she wrapped a buffalo-checkered blanket around her petite body. “C’mon, Armi, bedtime,” she’d commanded, and Hux looks childishly petulant as he protests. 

“No, Rosie, I need to walk Rey home.” The endearment’s a sure sign that he’s plastered, and Ben can’t help but roll his eyes. 

“You mean the five hundred feet between the deck and my cabana? If I can’t make it there, I’m done for, Tage.” Rey quips, before shooing the lovebirds inside. “Go get Rose under blankets before she freezes to death out here. I want you to keep my new sister alive.”

“Make sure she gets in alright,” Hux tosses over his shoulder at Ben as Rose drags him away, and for a second, Ben hallucinates Hux _winking_ at him. 

He didn’t think he bought a THC infused beer, but knowing Poe…

Then he smells cinnamon and whiskey as Rey presses against his side, huddling against him for warmth. “‘m cold,” she explains as she burrows her head into his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around her, enjoying the feeling of Rey, her scent so close, before standing up and pulling her with him.

“Let’s get you home. I don’t want your brother having my head.”

“He’s ridiculously overprotective for someone who’s been gone for the last seven years, isn’t he?” she sighs and Ben stills at the mention of their estrangement. 

“He never stopped protecting you, even then,” he admits after a moment, the words “and neither did I” hanging unspoken from his lips. 

“I know,” she sighed, looking up at the velvet sky and the shimmering lights above. “He told me what you both did. Chasing me away to keep me safe from Snoke. I didn’t understand it then, but now…” she trails off, eyes locked on the stars and away from Ben. 

“He did a lot more than that,” Ben promises, although he’s hesitant to share all the lengths Hux went through to protect his family. 

“I’m glad you’re home, Ben.” Rey whispers, and her eyes are back on his. Emerald and tawny brandy, the colors of the unscorched landscape they’d grown up in. Her eyes feel like home and he can’t help but pull her a little closer, a little tighter before stepping away, stopping himself from taking this too far. 

“Walk me home, Ben Solo?” Rey asks, her voice low, almost seductive, and she looks at him through those doe-like lashes again, innocent seduction calling him to sin. Her breath turns into puffs of condensation as it hits the cold air, and Ben can’t find a reason to say no.

After all, he _did_ promise Hux, he thinks deviously. 

He takes her small hand into his, warming her soft skin with his own as he leads her down the white cement steps from the deck to the patio below. He feels like he’s escorting a princess in some Disney movie as he does, and he mock bows to her at the bottom, before raising her hand to his lips and brushing the back of it in a soft kiss. 

Even he can’t rationalize away Rey’s sharp inhale at the action, or the way her eyes seem to smolder as she watches him. 

He leads her around the turquoise pool, lit by its waterproof lights, towards the small cabana at the corner of the patio. Ben’s so entranced by Rey’s face that he doesn’t notice the burned trees surrounding it, and he misses that mischievous bundle of green and red hanging from the cabana’s small porch light until she grins up at it. 

His eyes follow hers, and he almost groans. Instead, he raises an eyebrow, curious at the implication of Rey hanging mistletoe outside her door (as surely not even his mother would be so bold). 

“And just what is this doing here?” he asks, and there’s another demure fluttering of lashes against vibrant hazel orbs. 

Rey lifts her head up towards Ben’s, angling her body so she’s facing him as she answers. “I put it there earlier tonight.”

“Hm. And what,” Ben leans over now, skipping over her proffered lips to growl into her ear, “were you hoping would happen by hanging this outside your door?”

She rises to his challenge, still the firecracker that he remembers, and traces a gold-painted nail down his flannel covered chest. “I was hoping,” she purrs sweetly, “that I got to find out how you’d kiss me when nobody’s watching.”

Maybe its the liquid boldness of the beer he drank, or maybe its the frankness of her confession pared with the hunger in his eyes, but every concern, every reason that Ben Solo’s ever given for not acting on his feelings for Rey promptly vanishes as his heart takes over. 

Gently, he cups the point of her chin in between his thumb and forefinger, angling her lips as he leans down to her height. She raises herself onto her tippy-toes, meeting him halfway and their mouths meet, a collision that’s been years in the making. 

Ben means to keep the kiss sweet, he really does, but his free hand tugs Rey’s waist closer, pressing her up against him as he tastes the decadence of her lips. She’s addicting, like candy, and he can’t resist sucking her lower lip between his, running his tongue along the seam of her mouth and begging for entrance. She grants it to him willingly, opening up so their tongues can duel while she threads her hands through his dark hair. 

He could kiss her forever, he thinks dizzily, before remembering his essential need of oxygen. Reluctantly, he pulls away, and she gasps for air in a way that makes her small breasts heave under the sequins of her dress that sparkles in the low light like the stars in the sky. Slowly, her eyes open, like she’s waking up from the most pleasant dream and he wants to see how she wakes up, how she falls asleep. 

“Was it everything you dreamed of?” he can’t help but give her a lopsided grin, disguising his nerves with sarcasm. 

“Mmm, even better,” she coos, before rising up to whisper wickedly in his ear, “but I’ve dreamed of so much more than just you kissing me.”

Tasting her sweet red lips had already awakened his cock, but hearing Rey indicate that she’s _fantasized_ about him, in some of the same ways that he’s thought of her, makes it twitch in the tight confines of his jeans. 

Briefly, he thinks this must be too good to be true, although he sees the flash of vulnerability in her eyes, the one of a girl who protects her heart at all costs - much like Ben. Still, he has to be sure, and so he watches her carefully as he inartfully asks,

“Rey, sweetheart, before I - Christ, _please_ tell me you’re sober.”

He bites his tongue reactively, not sure how she’d take his botched question but his beautiful Rey tips her head back and laughs, still clinging to his shirt with her fist. 

“It’s good to know you’re still so chivalrous,” she grins. “I’m sober, don’t worry.” 

“Good,” he responds before diving in for another kiss, this one somehow more heated than the last. He flattens one palm against her back to push her breasts against him, the other one resting right where her lower back begins to curve into that delicious ass of hers. She’s pliant in his arms, pressing her pelvis against him and adding more tortuously sweet pressure against his cock, moaning softly into his mouth. Fuck, her moan does things to him, he thinks, before immediately knowing he needed to hear that sound over and over again.

Then she breaks away, pulling away from his mouth with a loud smack and putting enough space between them so he can feel the cold December air hit his body. 

Internally, he begins smacking himself for too much, too fast, but the sound of a door opening pauses those thoughts. 

Rey’s opened the door to the cabana and now beckons him in with a sly smirk, her vermillion lipstick smudged and lips swollen from his kisses. 

“I thought we might move this indoors? After all, baby, it’s cold outside.” she can’t help but giggle at the cheesiness of her last sentence, and Ben groans. 

“Lucky for you, I’m not turned off by terrible pick-up lines,” he quips as he steps inside, eyes drinking in the still darkened single room. A wall of warm air ensconces him, welcoming him as his vision adjusts. It’s still mostly the same as before, although the white, modern couch is new, as well as the white wooden screen with lattice cutouts, a subtle way to separate Rey’s bedroom from the rest of the space. 

He can’t observe much more before she’s back on him, pouncing with a hunger that makes his spine tingle with desire. He lets her kiss him, teeth scraping against his lips and oh, God, does this woman already know him, know how to make him grind against her and lose control. 

But Kylo Ren, Ben Solo, _whatever_ , he’s still a control freak, and so he wrests it back by pulling his head back long enough to dive for the curve of her neck. On his way there, he whispers, “I’ve dreamed about you too, Sweetheart.”

Rey shivers in his arms, his words making her breath hitch and the corners of his lips twist up in a small smirk. 

He begins blazing a trail from behind her ear down to the ridge of her shoulder, laying a path of kisses and gentle bites, noting which spots and how much teeth made her writhe against him. He feels her hands running over his chest again, and then tugging on the front fabric of his plaid shirt as she clumsily undoes the buttons. He spreads his arms out long enough for her to push it off him, although he returns to that sensitive spot just under her jaw and grazes his teeth over it as she does and she practically purrs in response. 

She’s already tugging his black undershirt out from his waistband. Emboldened, Ben cups her round ass in his hands, delighting in how firm it is and using it to lift her weight to deliver just a little more relief in the form of pressure against his increasingly throbbing member. 

Rey gasps, as if shocked, and then bucks her hips against him, as if trying to confirm what she already feels. Then she looks up at him like a hungry lioness, licking her lips as she does.

Fuck, what he would give to feel those lips wrapped around his cock. 

The skirt of her dress bunches up under his hands, unable to stay in place and rising up indecently high on her thighs. Ben always swore that if he ever got Rey in his arms, he’d take it slow, but let’s be honest: he’s never been a patient man, especially when he’s wanted something for so long. 

So he can’t resist taking his fingers and running them along the hemline, chuckling as she responds with an arched back to angle her ass, her cunt, towards them. Instead, he traces the tops of her thighs teasingly, delighting in the softness of her skin and thanking every deity in the sky that she’s not wearing hose. 

With a growl, Rey pushes him back, so his butt hits the back of the couch. She yanks his shirt over his head without warning, although his arms fly up to assist her. He knows better than to stand in her way. 

Ben’s always been a gym rat, especially in those post-Snoke months when he’d thrown himself into crossfit to work through his aggression. Every second of pain is worth seeing Rey’s lips forming a perfect “o”, the way her eyes flash like emeralds as she takes in the sight of his muscled chest, the fucking eight pack he’d slaved for. 

“Fuck,” she exhales, and Ben’s control snaps. He steps up so he’s towering over her again, wrapping her against him in a tight embrace so he can ravage Rey’s mouth again. She wraps a leg around him, practically grinding her pussy against the thick outline of his cock in his jeans. The desire in her actions makes his head spin, almost as much as the heat he can feel despite the layers separating them. 

The sequins of her dress bite into his bare chest, and so his fingers trace up her spine until he finds the top of her zipper. He pulls it down like he’s unwrapping a luxurious gift, the slow sound of her dress unzipping only heightening his anticipation. 

When he reaches the end she braces her hand against his chest, hot skin on skin, and pushes her body away. She peels her arms out from the sleeves before letting the dress slide off her and into a pool of shimmering evergreen on the bleached wooden floor, her body outlined in the dim glow of white Christmas lights outside. 

She is gorgeous, his Rey. California’s made sure her skin’s that warm golden color he remembers, but he’s never seen the tops of her breasts encased in a black strapless push-up bra, peach like mounds threatening to spill forth. Nor has he ever seen (dreamt about, sure, but not seen) the black satin thong that sits against her slender hips, separated from the matching bra by the expanse of her long, flat stomach. 

She is a goddess before him, and Ben wants to drop to his knees to worship. 

Instead, he’s conscious of how exposed she is, were someone to slip out to the pool area for a late night smoke. She’s right in front of the glass paneled door, so Ben steps forward and scoops her into his arms, so he can carry her bridal style to her bed. 

She shrieks a giggle as he does but doesn’t resist, wrapping her arms around his neck trustingly as he carries her with ease. He steps around the white wooden screen to find a queen sized bed, low to the ground and covered with a basic baby blue duvet. Gently, he lowers her to it, putting her bare back against the sheet with his hand wedged underneath so his fingers can pluck at its closure. 

His eyes bore into hers as he works to get it open, and he chokes down a triumphant cheer once it finally pops off. 

He senses her shyness as he pulls the black bra away from her breasts, letting him see them for the first time. They’re perfectly pert, sweet and round with pink little nipples standing at attention. He groans at seeing them, finally, and dives towards one, taking it in his mouth to immediately work it with his tongue, scrape over it with his teeth. She wriggles and mewls in response, and he uses his palm to arch her back further. His free hand finds her other breast, his fingers plucking at that nipple and making her moan beneath him. 

When he pulls away, he sees her nipple wet with his spit and can’t resist palming himself through his pants. She watches through lowered lids, biting her lip and her cheeks rosy pink. 

“Why are you blushing?” he asks, curious.

“You don’t think they’re too-“ there’s a warble to her voice, another flash of insecurity. Ben doesn’t know whether to scream or chuckle, that Rey could think she was anything less than _perfect._

“God, Rey, no. They’re fucking perfect.” And then he’s diving in to the other one, circling that nipple with his tongue before sucking it between his teeth and making her arch again. 

“Fuck, Ben, I never liked someone touching my breasts before but-“ she gasps.

“You mean you never dreamed about this?” he asks wickedly before laving his tongue over her pebbled flesh again. 

“Oh,” is all she’s able to respond, although those devious little hands of hers are tracing along his waistband, searching for the button of his jeans. 

She manages to pop it open and works his fly down, although she huffs a bit when she touches the cotton of his boxer-briefs underneath. 

Then she runs her fingers along the outline of his cock and he trembles, eyes fluttering shut as he reminds himself to maintain control for the love of everything holy. He is not some awkward high schooler, and he’s not going to come in his damn underwear from the first time she touches him. 

Instead, he lets his fingers trace the lips of her cunt through the satin of her panties, returning the tease. The fabric’s already damp, the heat of her core radiating through them, giving away just how aroused she is. Something masculine in him preens at the knowledge that he’s made his girl so wet for him already. 

She strokes his aching cock again through his briefs, her delicate fingers barely long enough to circle his width and he can’t help but buck up into her touch. 

“God, you’re a lot bigger than I anticipated,” she whispers, but there’s a fire in her eyes that tells him the challenge excites him. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re ready for me, sweetheart,” he croons into her ear. And then, because he’s still a bastard at heart: “You mean you didn’t think about my cock inside you before this?”

Now she’s blushing again, and oh, he likes making her cheeks burn crimson while he’s bent over her. He encourages her by slipping a finger under her thong, running it along her weeping slit, gathering her moisture on its tip. 

She bites her lip to choke down a cry, and he grins devilishly. 

“I mean, I did, but- ugnh,” she moans as he circles her entrance slowly, teasingly. “I didn’t think you’d be that big,” she gasps.

He lowers his lips to her ear, having already noted how her breaths grew shallow when he talked to her like this. “Tell me, Rey,” he whispers, “tell me what you thought about, then.”

Her face is candy apple red and he adores it. He considers taking pity on her but his curiosity’s too strong. Instead, he slowly, lazily drags his finger up to the bundle of nerves at the top of her folds, skimming over it with the softest of touches. 

She mewls, hips following his touch greedily, and he gently presses her back down with his free hand. 

“Uh-uh,” he chides teasingly, pausing to flick one of her nipples with his tongue. She writhes again beneath him. “Not until you start talking, Rey.”

“Fuck, Ben, you ass,” she cries, desperate, but he sees surrender in her eyes. “I don’t know, I’ve thought about everything. Kissing you, fucking you, blowing you.”

He rewards her by stroking around the sensitive button again, alternating between light and soft to figure out what she likes best. “Keep going,” he demands, his voice surprisingly rough with desire. Watching her, feeling her is driving him crazy, making his cock strain painfully and his balls swell, and he knows he’s playing with fire but sometimes, he needs to burn. 

“I, uh, oh!” she moans when he gently flicks over the top of her clit. It’s as if he’s discovered the winning combination because the touch makes her start talking. “Do you remember the time I was on the cheerleading squad and you were on the varsity basketball team? The first game that season?”

He’s not sure how he could ever forget. He’d never loved basketball, but his height and competitive drive guaranteed him a spot on the team every year. He’d shown up for the game begrudgingly, wishing he could just stay home alone that night when he spied her: Rey, standing on the sidelines with the rest of the cheerleaders, her long legs exposed by that sinfully short red and white pleated skirt; long chestnut hair perched atop her head in a high pony with a red ribbon wrapped around it. He’d almost taken a ball to the face during the game when he caught a glimpse of her during a cheer, her skirt flying up to reveal the swell of her ass covered in black spandex, a tanned sliver of stomach appearing in a gap between her skirt and her top. He’d ended up spending the night at the Huxes, as previously arranged, and barely slept thanks to the raging boner that refused to die as he thought about Rey, sweet sixteen and just a room away.

“Yes. I remember. You looked, and I’m sorry if this is creepy, fucking _hot_. I definitely couldn’t forget you in that skirt - never have, never will,” he confesses, and presses the tip of his finger into her tight opening. Hot, slick velvet envelopes him, squeezing and trying to draw him in, and they both moan at the sensation. 

“Well, you looked good yourself. Those muscles, how fierce you were in the game, God, I wanted you so bad. In fact, maybe I shouldn’t tell you about this,” she grins wickedly, turning Ben’s own game against him, “but I remember lying on top of my covers that night, completely naked, and I couldn’t help but think about you.”

His throat goes dry and he closes his eyes as he listens, her words torturing him and making his stomach coil with need. He thrusts his finger out, then in a little deeper, burying it in her cunt just past his second knuckle. 

She bites back a moan again, her head falling back with pleasure as her walls grip him. 

“Fuck, Rey, sweetheart, you’re so tight,” he gasps. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was a virgin.

“I lay there and I touched myself to the thought of you, Ben,” she’s whispering in his ear now, hot breath tickling him and sending sparks down his spine. “I had my fingers buried so deep in me and my legs were spread so wide and facing the door. I was imagining you fucking me, bending me over that desk in the gym’s office and making me come on your cock.” He groans, lost in her words and willing his racing body to please _calm the fuck down_ as he works another finger inside her. “I remember having to be so quiet, but I secretly wanted to be loud because I wanted you to walk in and find me like that.”

“Jesus, Rey,” he moans, and turns his head to capture her lips with his while trailing his fingers over her walls, searching for that spongy spot inside. He finds it quickly and grins into his kiss, although he ignores it for the moment. “I wouldn’t have been able to control myself if I had.”

“That’s how long I’ve wanted you, Ben,” she breathes, and his heart soars. 

“God, Rey, same, same,” he chants, showering her lips with kisses before his libido takes over again. “But now, I don’t want you to be quiet. I’ve dreamed of hearing you come screaming my name. Now, I want you to be loud.” Now he crooks his fingers up against her g-spot, stroking against it. She keens, long and loud, breasts heaving as he alternates scissors his fingers inside her and crooking them against that spot, readying her for his cock. 

“Ben, Ben, God, I’m so close,” she’s thrashing beneath him, this beautiful woman undone by him. He uses his free hand to yank her panties to the side so his thumb can rub her sensitive clitoris, and she fucking spasms around his fingers, wetness gushing over them.

“Fuck, Ben, Ben,” her moans grow in volume, and he smiles wolfishly. 

“That’s right, baby girl. Come for me, Rey,” he encourages, and with one last hinged thrust of his fingers, she shatters, her core fluttering greedily on his digits as she screams out his name so loud, that if Ben didn’t know better, he’d be _slightly_ concerned that someone in the main house heard her. 

He keeps thrusting through her orgasm, wetness dripping down his wrist as her heaving breasts return to normal. Once she’s back, he withdraws them, raising his juice-covered fingers to his lips before sucking them clean. 

She tastes divine, like the sweetest honey imaginable with just the right tang, and he’s fucking addicted forever. He has to resist the urge to dive down between her thighs and start lapping her up right then and there, his struggle freezing him in place and giving her the perfect opening. 

Before he can react, she’s on her knees in front of him and pushing his boxer briefs to his thighs. His cock springs forward, fully erect and finally free of its confines, greeting her exuberantly. 

For a second, concern dances in her eyes and his brain finally catches up. 

“Don’t-“ he moves to stop her, but even post-orgasm this girl moves too fast. There was a reason why she, despite the sinfulness of her on the cheerleading squad, was better known as the best forward in their high school soccer team’s history. 

Male or female. 

Rey uses that speed to lunge forward and lick a wet, hot stripe up the underside of his member, her hand grasping it at its base. The drag of her tongue against him sends shudders through his body and he moans.

He looks down at the same time she wraps her lips around the tip of him, just past the soft ledge of his mushroom-shaped head. He’s lost in hot dampness, her tongue washing over his weeping cock and he has to start reciting types of hops in his head to keep himself from coming. 

_‘Galaxy. Citra. Centennial.’_ She works herself deeper, taking more of his shaft in her mouth. Fuck. _‘Mosaic. Hallertau. Lemon Drop.’_ He makes the mistake of looking back down and seeing Rey with her mouth wrapped around his cock, lips stretching to accommodate him and he shudders, balls tightening dangerously. 

“Stop, please, I can’t-“ he’s able to gently push her away, although every inch of his body screams at him in protest. “I want- I need you, I need to feel you-“

And this girl, his perfect girl, she understands, and so she lies back, pulling him down with her so that his chest’s crushed against her breasts and his dick’s already sliding through her wet folds, mingling with her spit to make it even more lubricated. 

“Condom?” he’s able to whisper, some form of common sense still present in his lust-addled brain. 

She hesitates for a moment, and he’s about to doubt himself, that he’s misread this all wrong when she shakes her head. “I’m clean, and on the pill. I want- I want to feel you, Ben,” she whispers with a blush and Ben Solo thinks Santa has finally, finally shown he was a good boy because this gift is too good to be true.

“I’m clean too. And, uh, me too. You’re sure?” he asks, and she responds by reaching down and taking him in hand, angling her towards her waiting cunt. 

“Please,” is all she says, brilliant hazel eyes locking onto his to convey her sincerity. 

“Fuck,” he groans before pushing inside of her, her tight walls surrounding his head as she stretched around his girth. Her nails grip into his back and he tries to take it slow, easy as he continues his descent, her cunt so tight it feels like a vice around him and he’s moving onto types of malt now to keep himself from coming everywhere. 

_‘Caramunich. Acidulated.’_

Then she surprises him by placing her hands on his ass and shoving him down while arching up to meet him, forcing him in the rest of the way so he’s buried to the hilt. He swears he can feel the top of her pussy, the soft ridges of her g-spot, the velvet crush of the rest of her swallowing him whole and his head spins. 

It feels like heaven, home, bliss, every word you could think of to describe the rightness he feels and the pleasure tingling at the base of his back. 

He thrusts up and she gasps, his eyes squeezing shut as he concentrates on feeling out the best angle for her. He knows missionary’s not the best for making a woman come, but he’s also not willing to pass up feeling her trapped under his body, watching her face as she falls apart on his cock. So he lifts her hips to angle them a little better, slipping a hand beneath her ass so that when he moves again, he hits that magic spot inside her and she keens. He rocks his hips again, three, four times when he feels her tense around him, back arching as she gasps out his name. 

His eyes fall to her face so he can drink in the vision of her coming around him, and the sight of her almost takes him with her.

Almost.

Instead, he pulls out to flip her onto all fours, before he guides himself back into the velvet fist of her still molten center. She cries out as he buries himself in her, and he shivers as he bottoms out inside, every inch of his length scraping against her. He splays his palm out between her shoulder blades, pushing her down so he can drive deeper, pleasure taking over. Her moans swell, her ass moving back to slam against him as he ruts into her. Her cunt’s practically gushing around him, muscles constantly spasming as he fucks her into her pillows. Her breath wracks, like she’s sobbing, and he’s able to choke out,

“Are you okay?”

“Please, please, don’t stop Ben, so good, I don’t - I’m gonna come so hard, it’s like you’re hitting something so deep in me and please, please, fuck me, please,” she babbles and he’s a slave to her commands, hips snapping as he returns to the same tempo as before. It’s not long before she’s screaming his name into the pillow her face is buried into, and her pussy practically seizes around him. Later on, Ben will recall reading about some secret, second g-spot hidden deep inside of a woman, but right now, his mind’s gone blank as her orgasm hurtles him over the edge, vision going blank as he jackhammers into her with a deep, guttural moan. 

He collapses onto her, tucking her into his arms before rolling onto his side, keeping her in his embrace. He can feel himself softening, sliding out of her as it does, but they stay cuddled together, reassuring each other with tender kisses and giddy smiles.

They fall asleep in a tangle of limbs and uncertainty about what daylight brings, but too sated to handle such arduous conversations now. Instead, their breaths soften and grow swallow, as they journey together to the Land of Nod, their hands still entwined as they dream.

———————————————-

Ben Solo awakens to the bright California shining into his face, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla filling his nose. He’s spooning something warm and soft and very alive, judging by the soft breaths and -

 _Rey._

Holy fucking shit, he’s in bed. Naked. With Rey. 

Memories of the night before come flying back to him, and it’s so damn _blissful_ he thinks it must be a dream, so he opens his eyes to confirm.

Dark caramel colored hair frames her face, freckles re-appearing where she’s rubbed or sweated her make-up off. Her lips are slightly puffy from the night before, and her hair - well, it’s definitely sex hair, and he almost chuckles at the sight of it sticking up all over. 

She sighs contentedly, a soft snore escaping her lips, and his heart does a backflip at the sweetness of her asleep in his arms. He doesn’t want to leave this place, he resolves. His cock, which has always had the habit of waking up far faster than he, agrees with this sentiment with a slightly demanding twitch. 

Maybe, he thinks wickedly, he could wake her up with his mouth, lapping up that sweet syrup and making her come on his tongue, he thinks. 

Then his eyes spy the Google Hub sitting on her nightstand, the one that has a background picture of a beach somewhere tropical, the one that says “8:02 AM, December 25th.”

It’s Christmas. 

It’s Christmas, and he’s naked in bed with Rey.

It’s Christmas, and he’s naked in bed with Rey, in his parents’ cabana.

It’s Christmas, and he’s naked in bed with Rey, in his parents’ cabana, and her incredibly over-protective brother, his best friend, is likely minutes away from coming to look for them. 

Oh, _fuck._

Panic races through Ben as he very quickly thinks of a plan that will allow him to a) not die at the hands of Armitage Hux until he’s had a chance to talk to Rey about what this is; b) keep her dignity; and c) let her sleep a little longer. 

After all, he thinks he probably wore her out, his ego crows. 

He slips out of bed carefully, taking more than a minute to very, very delicate detangle himself from Rey and moving like a ghost to keep her from waking. He’s quieter than a churchmouse as he dresses, finding his clothes as he works towards the door. He’s able to slip out silently, closing the door without making a single noise so he can run to the main house, make his way up the back stairway to his room, change into fresh clothes and then make an appearance in the kitchen, before volunteering to bring Rey coffee so he can get back to her before she even awakens. 

Genius, he thinks, before he starts to quickly walk across the polished white concrete patio, mind so focused on his mission that he doesn’t stop to notice the burnt footprint of the old garage, or the way the blackened trees look like evil hands stretching from the earth in the morning sun. 

“Do  _not_  tell me you’re sneaking out of there while my sister’s still sleeping.”

The scathing critique rises warningly from behind the high back of one of the pool chairs, where the speaker’s body remains concealed. Ben freezes mid-step, recognizing that voice instantly. Slowly, with a sinking stomach and rising heart rate, he peeks around to the front of the linen covered chair.

Hux, looking mildly hungover and only 10% more annoyed than usual, glares back.

“I-“

“Whatever idiotic explanation you’re about to share, save it,” the redhead snaps.

“But it’s not what it looks like-“

“No? So you didn’t mean that you’re sneaking out of my sister’s room after spending the night with her like she’s some cheap one-night stand?”

“No!” Ben protests, aghast. “I’m coming back!” The words die on his lips as he speaks them, realizing how terrible it sounds as he does. 

“Mate, let me tell you something about my sister.” Hux says, planting his feet on the ground so he can sit up and scowl at Ben. “You and I both know about her abandonment issues. Y’know, orphan and all that. So even though I believe you when you tell me that you’re coming back, imagine what she’ll think when she wakes up and you’re _not there._ ”

Ben’s blood runs cold as he realizes the giant flaw in his plan, his mind now torturing him with the thought of Rey waking up alone and thinking this meant nothing to him, that he was abandoning her, that he _used_ her. 

His face must convey everything he’s thinking (it usually does), because Hux smirks, and then grimaces at the action. 

“Exactly. And with my sister, you only get one fucking chance. So turn your ass around and get back in there to wake her up properly and sort all this out now. Because I am not going to deal with you two twits mooning over each other for another five years.”

Ben blinks, shocked at Hux’s tirade. This was not what he thought was going to happen, how he thought Hux would react. His mouth hangs open, slack jawed, and Hux chuffs, sliding his polarized Ray-Bans back over his ice blue eyes. 

“What, you think I didn’t know?”

“I thought you didn’t approve,” Ben admits.

“First, do you think I have any right to dictate who my sister dates?”

He has a point there, although Ben never expected Hux to admit it. 

“Second, I know you, Solo. And even though you can be a right prick, deep down inside, you’re a good man and you’ve been in love with her since what, ninth grade?”

“You knew?!?” Ben has to work to keep his voice down, anger, shock, and some twisted sense of irony racing through his blood.

“Of course I knew, you idiot. You were obvious, you looked at her with such puppy dog eyes. Why do you think every girl you dated in high school hated her so much?”

“Are you trying to tell me that Rey and I were the only ones who didn’t know?”

“Yes, because love is blind and what not.” Hux rolls his eyes. “But that’s not the point. The point is, I know you held back because we were friends, and I appreciate that. I do. It tells me you’re a good man, and you’re going to be good to my sister. I’m now just here to stop you from fucking it up royally before it starts, like some bloody rom-com bullshit or what have you.” Hux finishes his speech, if you could call it that, with a satisfied grin as he leans back into the chair, returning to his reclining permission. 

“Now, go be the man my sister deserves and get your ass back into that cabana.”

Shocked to speechlessness (a major feat given the genetic makeup of Benjamin Skywalker Organa Solo), Ben manages to give his best friend a half-cocked smile and a sarcastic salute. 

“Aye-aye, General. And, uh, thanks, Hux.” he says awkwardly, his mind still reeling from all this new information, and this new side of Hux. 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t mention it. Just help me hide this hangover from my parents, you know how they are.”

“I got your back.”

“You better. I’ll be expecting a dowry if you propose. I’ve got my eye on a Tesla.”

Ben laughs, before turning to jog the seven steps back to the cabana, not wanting to risk Rey waking any longer. 

“Oh, and Solo?” Hux calls after him. “My dad will be here in thirty minutes. I _highly_ recommend you and Rey are both decent and leaving plenty of room for the Holy Spirit by then.”

Fear slices through Ben Solo at the thought of Brendol Hux finding him in bed with his beloved daughter, and he hightails it back into the cabana, leaving Hux snickering in his pool chair. 

“Bunch of right idiots, they are,” the ginger says, shaking his head before flinching in pain at the motion. “Ow. Anyways, time to tell Phasma she’s lost that bet.”


	2. Epilogue

_****_ ****

**_EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER_ **

“Yeah, hi, can I get two Millennium Falcon IPAs and a Shasta Strong Ale, please?” a tanned blonde with a silver nose ring asks Ben, black lipstick twisted into a friendly smile that seems out of place but perfectly genuine. It’s the kind of contradiction Ben’s gotten used to out here, and he nods back.

“Sure, you got a tab open?”

“Yup, Erney,” she chirps, and he turns around to the panel of wooden beer taps on the ebony steel wall behind him, grabbing two pint glasses and a tulip glass as he moves. 

It’s the third week of Phoenix Rising Brew Company being open, and business is surprisingly good. Ben expected worse, remembering the slow days of First Order back in its infancy, but the West Coast is a whole different ball game, and lots of locals eager to show their support for local businesses. 

It hadn’t been Ben’s idea to come back to Red Lake for good. Just like before, it was Hux’s, although just like before, Ben’s sure his ginger-haired friend sensed the depression Ben and Rey both fell into between their trips to see each other. She’d even returned to D.C., to FEMA, to try to reduce the distance, but her workload made their schedules impossible, and she was miserable giving up on her project back in Red Lake. 

Then one night, about a year ago, Hux took him out to one of Williamsburg’s fancier beer bars to talk business. “Rose and I have been talking,” he explained. Ben already knew that Hux’s parents were giving up on their Red Lake property. Rebuilding all they lost was just too much for them in their old age, and with the continued threat of fires in the changing climate, they elected to stay in Tahoe and look for another property on the coast. Ben thought the Hux property was up for sale, until Armitage explained over a coffee porter that he and Rose were discussing taking it for themselves and turning it into a brewery and hop farm. 

“Think about it, the location is perfect for it,” Hux plead. 

“Uh, we already own a brewery here, Hux.”

“I already talked to Phasma. She wants to buy us out, she has a buddy who wants to get into craft beer venture capitalism and will help her.”

“Okay,” Ben blinked, shocked, taking a long sip of his drink. This wasn’t some pipe dream, this was something Hux was clearly planning out. 

“What about the soil there? Didn’t the fire make it barren? Or toxic?” 

“No, all the soil remediation’s been done and I’ve had three different labs test the soil. Not only is it cleaner than a virgin-“ Ben choked “but it’s incredibly fertile. The fire actually made it better for growing.”

“Fine,” Ben abandons that argument, “But what about Poe? Aren’t we encroaching on his territory?”

Hux laughs at this. “Hardly, Dameron’s stoked about the whole idea. He just wants a discount on the hops once they’re ready for harvesting. It’s different there, you know that. It’s not as competitive, not in Shasta, and with our reputation, we could bring a lot of buzz.”

They then fell into deeper discussions, like costs and logistics. Ever the pragmatist, Ben left that night feeling intrigued, but cautious, and for many reasons. But Hux’s best argument was the one made as they walked towards the subway, rain misting over their heads. 

“Just think about it, Solo. Rey could come home and continue her dream, you two would finally be together, and your parents would be over the moon.” His best friend clasped his hand over his shoulder, and Ben finally snapped, shaking his head. 

“What’s gotten into you, Hux?” 

Hux’s eyes drop their playful glint, ice blue frozen with levity. Ben sucks in his breath, thinking his friend’s about to say that Brendol’s relapsed, or that Anna’s sick. 

“Look, Rose and I aren’t telling anyone yet, but she’s pregnant, Ben.”

“What?” Ben’s heart thumps with elation, and he pulls his brother-from-another-mother in for a hug. “That’s awesome, Hux, congrats!” 

The smaller man hugs him back before pulling away. “Anyways, that’s a big part, too. You know I don’t want to raise kids here, it’s too crazy, too expensive.” He pauses, inhaling deeply, and then:

“It’s time we go home, Solo. For good.”

Ben took the next Acela train to D.C., arriving at Rey’s at three in the morning so they could discuss the matter over the weekend. 

By Monday, they were in negotiations with Phasma to buy Hux and Ben out. She was backed, surprisingly enough, by their old colleague Dopheld Mitaka, who not only kept all his money by being the first to rat Snoke out, but made a pretty penny writing a tell-all book that was being turned into a screen play. 

“Don’t worry, I got some pretty boy from _Girls_ to play you,” Dopheld teased, making Ben groan. 

Back in the present, he finishes pouring Goth Blonde her beers and passes them back to her with a quick “cheers” before someone’s tapping on his back. He turns, then looks down to see Rose Tico scootching past him, her raven waves twisted into two buns on the side of her head. 

“Move your ass, Solo,” she growls playfully, making her way back to the office. She looks incredible, like she wasn’t pregnant just four months ago, her hard work and commitment to Phoenix Rising keeping her on her feet and able to lose the baby weight with an ease that made other women jealous. She and Hux moved out here first, while Ben wrapped up their business on the East Coast, and had actually ended up living on the property, building a small but comfortable house at the edge of the firebreak they’d created around the canyon’s rim - overlooking the Solo’s, just like before. 

“Where’s Emilia?” Ben asks, blinking. Last time he saw Rose, she’d been taking the small auburn haired baby with her mother’s eyes back to their house, and hadn’t seen them return since. 

“Oh, you mean you haven’t seen Hux lately?” Rose points, and Ben’s eyes follow to find Armitage Hux wearing a black Baby Bjorn on his chest, his sleeping daughter safely tucked inside. Baby Emilia’s oblivious in her slumber to Kaydel Connix and Finn Dameron’s cooing over her, while Poe says something undoubtedly mocking to Hux.

Ben looks away with a grin. “I don’t know who’s got him more whipped, you or Em.”

Rose takes the opportunity to whip him with a damp dishtowel. He dances away, escaping its stinging lash by centimeters. Her eyes shift away from him, something distracting her from continuing her attack. 

“Speaking of being whipped, here comes your girl.” Rose nods towards the door, and Ben’s head jerks towards it. 

Sure enough, Rey’s sauntering in with that soft smile she wears just for him. Her dark jeans accentuate her long legs, and she’s tied up her red Phoenix Rising Brew Co shirt into a knot on the side, exposing a sliver of her flat stomach. 

Eighteen months and the flash of her skin still turns his knees to jelly.

The only thing impeding Rey from a totally graceful entry is the muscled black demon at the end of the leash she holds. She’s barely able to keep the dog restrained as he pulls towards his master, despite her repeated commands.

“Kylo, heel!”

But Kylo does not heel, and Ben steps in front of the bar to greet them. He bends down, letting the pit mix bound up to him happily and shower his face in kisses. 

“Yes, hi, boy, hi. Yes. Did you have a good time at grandma’s?” he babbles, scratching the dog’s chin affectionately. He’d been hesitant to take in Kylo, (or Bub as he’d been called at the time, a wretched name for a dog). Kaydel hounded him to do it, the dog having been an ongoing guest in her care since he was found with burned paws and melted whiskers in the burned rubble of another town an hour south, also devastated by fire. Once Kay convinced him to just come look at Kylo and see if they got along, Ben was a goner. He brought Kylo home that night.

When Rey arrived to move in with him two days later, she was delighted. She’d always wanted a dog, after all. (She was less delighted by the name, but she accepted it, allowing him to breathe a new chance into his old moniker from his Snoke days.)

“Hey, Sweetheart,” Ben’s finally able to pry himself from Kylo so he can stand and lay a soft peck on Rey’s lips in greeting. She’s not offended that Kylo got first dibs, fully understanding that their dog-son required being greeted first. “How was the meeting with CalFire?”

“Pretty good. I don’t want to jinx it, but I think we’re going to get that mandatory defensible space ordinance passed with the full CalFire recommendations.” She tosses her purse on the cherry-stained wood counter, and Ben pulls up a metal barstool for her. 

“That’s great! I knew you’d convince them.”

“Yeah, well, your mom helped. Turns out she still knows how to twist some arms. By the way, Han and Leia say hi, they wanna do dinner tomorrow,” she adds, and Ben resists a groan. 

“I bet she did.” He reads Rey’s face, seeing that she didn’t want to get too far into the details here, and changes the subject. “Sounds like you need a beer to celebrate.”

“Mmm, yes please. One Shasta County, good sir,” she giggles, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a flirtatious wink.

“Of course, miss. I just need to see your I.D. You look like you might be underage,” he grins, playing along with her game. 

“I would never! Besides, you better not flirt with me,” she warns sternly, but her hazel eyes still sparkle.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” he can’t help but give her that look, the one she says that smolders, where he rakes his eyes over her body shamelessly. She laughs again, reaching up with her left hand to sweep her hair behind her ear. There’s a flash of light as the sun pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows catches on the prominent cushion cut diamond adorning her ring finger.

“Because my fiancé is one of the co-owners here, and he’ll kick your ass,” she grins, and Ben Solo leans over the bar to give his future wife a long, soft kiss.

“Damn right he will,” he whispers when he breaks away, delighting in how she still flutters her eyes open slowly, like she’s savoring his kiss. 

“Unsanitary!” Hux shouts from the back of the bar, and a wolf whistle follows. 

All Ben Solo can do is grin, his heart overflowing with happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Edited to add (now that we've been revealed)_ : So, I based this fic's location off of Redding, CA, which suffered from the Carr Fire disaster this year. As I mentioned, I have a familial connection to the Redding area and watching some cherished places literally go up in flames was hard this summer. California's been hit by some major fires this year, including (and most recently), the worst and deadliest fire in state history with the Camp Fire, which decimated the towns of Paradise, Magalia, Concow and Pulga. My husband and I homebrew beer for funsies, and we were lucky enough to get a kit to brew a very special beer by Sierra Nevada called Resilience. It's brewed to raise money for the Camp Fire victims, and over a thousand American breweries have it on tap right now. I strongly encourage any IPA fans to go try it out. :) 
> 
> Many thanks to my secret agent SaturnineFeline for helping me with this fic. :) And thanks again to the headmistresses at TWD for organizing this, and Erney for giving me such fun prompts. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Again, Erney, I hope you liked this and that I was able to hit all the boxes for you with your gift! Hopefully it wasn't too California-centric, but I try to write in settings I know, and this is based on the town where my grandmother lived and what it went through this year. Happy Holidays!
> 
> To everyone - Happy Holidays and here's hoping 2019 brings good things to you all. Like... Episode IX. And more Reylo. 
> 
> BTW, the song that helped me write the smut was "Diamonds" by the Boxer Rebellion. In case you're looking for some music to pair with your reading. 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos make this writer's heart swell to three times its size, so if you liked this, please let me know!


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